<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Healing Power of Love by EventHorizon</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23218378">The Healing Power of Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EventHorizon/pseuds/EventHorizon'>EventHorizon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>COVID-19, Coronavirus, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Mycroft going a bit nutty, mystrade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:53:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,631</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23218378</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EventHorizon/pseuds/EventHorizon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft is something of a germophobe, which makes the COVID-19 situation an especially problematic thing for his and Greg's domestic bliss...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mycroft Holmes &amp; Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>208</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Isolated Johnlock Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Healing Power of Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>      “Mycroft, no.”</p><p>      “Mycroft, yes!”</p><p>Greg physically body-checked his partner, knocking him away
    from the door, then made shooing motions at the bewildered delivery driver, his
    helper and the piled pallet of toilet paper, disinfectant wipes, masks, gloves
    and… was that cigarettes?</p><p>      “You’re smoking again?”</p><p>      “If it is lethal for my lung cells, why not the virus
    particles?”</p><p>      “You’ve gone mad!  Completely and utterly mad.  And you’re
    sending all of that, not the fags, to the nearest hospital.  They need it, you
    horrible hoarder, not you.”</p><p>      “False.  I am indispensable to the function of this
    country and if I contract the plague, then all shall lie in ruin!”</p><p>      “That’s not… ok, there’s a grain of truth in that. 
    Buried deeply and camouflaged as a nut some burrowing animal buried and forgot
    about ages ago, but I can’t deny its existence.  However, you haven’t been
    exposed to COVID-19 and…”</p><p>      ‘You do not know that.”</p><p>      ‘I do, because you had Baskerville cobble together
    what… fifty tests and you took all of them.  Negative!  Every single one.  Why
    don’t you do something helpful like direct those creepy bastards to work on a cure
    or vaccine?”</p><p>      “They are, however… they are singularly unhelpful when
    it comes to situations that offer benefit to humanity.”</p><p>      “Then why do you fund them?”</p><p>      “There are many uses for things that aren’t beneficial
    to humanity.”</p><p>      “You’re Doctor No and Doctor Evil rolled into a single,
    germophobic ball.”</p><p>      “False!  I am not round.”</p><p>      “You’re going to be!  How much chocolate have you
    eaten today?”</p><p>      “Four pieces.”</p><p>      “Four <i>boxes</i>.”</p><p>      “It is a mood balancer!”</p><p>      “Not if your mood problem is that you’re a full-blown
    loony and marshalling secret government labs to get you virus tests by the
    lorry load!”</p><p>Mycroft quivered with agitation while Greg crossed his arms over
    his chest, broadened his stance and readied himself for yet another chasing of
    his lover down the path of insanity.</p><p>      “Gregory Lestrade, I have it on best authority that
    this is a serious, life-threatening situation.”</p><p>      “I agree, but you started working from home the
    instant you were notified of the situation and haven’t stepped outdoors since. 
    Not even for fresh air and sunshine.  Which you need.  You’ve gone all pasty
    and… stagnant… and a stroll about your garden would do you a world of good.  Or
    a little jog through a park!  We haven’t had a relaxing jog since you
    barricaded yourself in here and it does so much good for your mood that you
    probably don’t need four fucking boxes of chocolate.”</p><p>      “The virus has longevity!  And happily dances in the
    air once expelled from infected lungs, lurking about, waiting for its next
    victim.”</p><p>      “AND I’m shutting off all sources of plague or zombie
    films for you from now until your brain works again.”</p><p>      “You cannot censor me!”</p><p>      “I’m censoring them, not you.  See?  Your.  Brain. 
    Is.  Broken.”</p><p>      “MY brain is a finely crafted analytical machine that
    has taken every possible variable in this crisis and run them through a… well,
    the number is nearly countless… quantity of mental algorithms, all of which give
    the same answer.”</p><p>      “That you're loony.”</p><p>      “False!  That I must take all precautions to secure my
    health and well-being.  That you… that you love me so little, that your ardor
    has cooled to absolute zero, in the proper, Kelvin-based sense, that you look
    upon me now with no regard, affection or compassion, that you…”</p><p>      “AND I’m shutting off all sources of romance,
    Shakespeare or teenage angst films.  You can watch Postman Pat and Peppa Pig. 
    That’s it.”</p><p>      “I can access any media source at any time from
    anywhere in the world.”</p><p>      “Not if I hide the remote.”</p><p>      “You don’t dare…”</p><p>      “I do dare.”</p><p>Mycroft sped off and, with his long legs, beat Greg to the
    sitting room where he snatched up the telly remote to hold to his chest as if
    he was protecting an infant from the demons of hell.</p><p>      “Give me that, you nutter.”</p><p>      “I refuse.”</p><p>      “It’s not healthy for you right now.  Just this morning
    you binge watched Omega Man, The Seventh Seal and The Andromeda Strain, <i>none</i> of which you should be watching.  Because you’re loony.”</p><p>      “I am a competent adult who can decide what is and is
    not healthy for me.”</p><p>      “Like four boxes of chocolate.  And…”</p><p>Greg’s eye had glimpsed another piece of damning evidence that
    his lover was off his head.  In the form of a near-empty crystal decanter.</p><p>      … you had brandy with it, didn’t you?”</p><p>      “Alcohol is recommended to kill the virus.”</p><p>      “Not brandy!”</p><p>      “It was greater than 60% alcohol, which is the threshold
    for effectiveness.”</p><p>      “How are you still vertical!  You <i>are</i> going to
    die and not from COVID-19.  From clogged arteries and liver failure.”</p><p>      “Pish tosh.”</p><p>      “I’ll pish your tosh.  And not in a good way, either! 
    Now, gimme that…”</p><p>Greg wrestled the remote away from Mycroft’s death grip and engaged
    in a 40-second slap war to <i>keep</i> it away from Mycroft’s death-gripping
    hands.</p><p>      “Go outside.  Breathe.”</p><p>      “Under no circumstances.”</p><p>      “Well, then…”</p><p>Walking to the large doors that led to their garden, Greg
    dramatically threw them open, strode outside and set the remote under a bush, propping
    it so it could stare balefully at Mycroft from across the expanse.</p><p>      “You are a villain, Gregory Lestrade!  Of the
    wickedest sort!”</p><p>      “You’d best hope a dog doesn’t wander into the garden,
    either, and think this is a new toy.  Or decides it would do for a quick wee
    post.”</p><p>It was impossible to miss that Mycroft drew in a deep breath
    to hold before he raced outside to retrieve his remote, but it flew out in a
    single gasp when Greg grabbed him around the waist and gave him a firm hug,
    holding him close until his lover actually had no choice but to begin breathing
    again.</p><p>      “There… breathe that lovely air.  And it <i>is</i> lovely, too.  Not a person about to pollute it with germs, not even a
    remote-stealing dog.  Just some of our flowers starting to peer out of the
    ground, the birds singing in the trees and the sun shining in the sky.  Or what
    passes for sun in this city.  Just breathe, Mycroft… it’ll be alright…”</p><p>Greg held a wriggling Mycroft in his arms and continued to
    murmur soothing words until he felt Mycroft’s body relax and the poor man
    actually start to take in regular breaths of air.</p><p>      “There… much better.”</p><p>Greg smiled warmly and felt an enormous surge of relief that
    the frantic energy that had inhabited Mycroft’s eyes since this all began had
    dimmed.</p><p>      “I <i>could</i> be dying this very moment, you know.”</p><p>      “But you’d look gorgeous doing it”</p><p>The first real smile in days crept onto Mycroft’s lips and he
    shook his head in wonder at the man who shared both his life and his heart.</p><p>      “I do wish to greet with a pleasing visage those who
    parade past my open casket.”</p><p>      “And you shall.  Nobody’s more gorgeous than my
    Mycroft.”</p><p>      “Even when I am loony?”</p><p>      “Especially when you’re loony.  Puts a sexy gleam in your
    eye.”</p><p>Greg gave Mycroft still-smiling lips a quick kiss then dropped
    his arms and took a small step back.</p><p>      “And might that sexy gleam want to look over our
    little plant babies?  They’re putting on a proper show to reward us for all our
    hard work to add some color to the garden.  Won’t be long before that color is
    actually standing proud for us to admire.”</p><p>Mycroft looked at the various beds of plants, smile widening
    at the sight of little green sprouts peeking up from the soil.  The joy of
    making this little bit of the world his and Gregory’s to enjoy, Gregory
    handling the more… physical… efforts, while he planned and provided technical
    support concerning shade tolerance, plant spacing, etc., was again filling his
    heart and in the most delightful of ways.</p><p>      “It very much might want to look over our small
    charges.  They are fully living up to our high expectations for them.”</p><p>      “That they are.  Maybe we can consider some new
    additions to the family once we get a good look at how these brighten up our
    day.  I’ve always wanted a fruit tree or two.”</p><p>      “Ooh, a challenge.  I do adore those.”</p><p>      “Our day is planned!  The perfect thing to fight back
    against this evil old world is building our own, private Eden.”</p><p>      “Just so.  Though… Gregory…”</p><p>      “Yeah?”</p><p>      “You have not heard any news reporting plants as a
    vector for COVID-19 have you?”</p><p>      “Fuck me sideways!”</p><p>      “Plant cells share basic similarities with animal
    cells.  That is basic science.”</p><p>Greg’s scowl intensified until Mycroft could do nothing but
    laugh at the sight, which punctured Greg’s scowl like a pin through a
    particularly surly balloon.</p><p>      “Oh, look at you having a joke at my expense.  Funny.”</p><p>      “I thought so.  And behold!  Our babes are in complete
    agreement.”</p><p>The gentle wiggle from being caressed by the near-Spring
    breeze was, to Greg’s eyes, almost as cute as the wiggle being given by Mycroft’s
    adorable curl by the selfsame breeze.</p><p>      “They inherited your sense of humor.”</p><p>      “And your devotion to dirt.”</p><p>      “Nothing wrong with a bit of honest soil under the
    nails.”</p><p>      “There is much wrong with it but, as they say… you do
    you.”</p><p>      “That… Mycroft Holmes, that was sort of… modern.”</p><p>      “As are our children, I am turning over a new leaf.”</p><p>      “Becoming a plant would definitely protect you from
    COVID-19.  That is basic science.”</p><p>      “Yes, as I have, in honesty, already verified.”</p><p>      “You asked the Baskerville people, didn’t you?  And
    seriously, at that.”</p><p>      “One does not succeed in my position, Gregory, if one
    does not consider <i>all</i> the possibilities.”</p><p>      “For future reference, I am not having sex with a plant.”</p><p>      “Not even if I possessed… tendrils?”</p><p>      “I’m now reconsidering.”</p><p>      “I thought you might.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>